


Til Death Do Us Part

by writerspassion18



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Divorce, Guidance Counselors, Hurt/Comfort, Love, Marriage, Past Relationship(s), Redemption, Regret, Second Chances, Shame
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-26
Updated: 2017-09-17
Packaged: 2018-12-07 02:36:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11614149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writerspassion18/pseuds/writerspassion18
Summary: Marriage proposal accepted? Check. Marriage license applied for? Check. Divorce from your first husband filed? Not exactly...(originally posted on ffnet)





	1. Licenses

 

 

"Oh this would be a lovely color, wouldn't it?"

Hermione tilted her head to the side as though that would help her make up her mind. "Maybe… Or perhaps this one?"

Ginny pursed her lips. "Possibility, but it's not too dark? Far be it from me to make the final decisions for _your_ wedding, but a summer ceremony should be lively."

"Yes, yes, you are right about that."

"What are you two doing?"

Hermione and Ginny turned away from the color palette a bridal boutique shoppe owner had loaned the bride-to-be. The new voice belonged to the future groom and Ron was leaning over the pair of women sitting on the sofa to take a look at their activities.

"Trying to figure out the right color for the bridesmaids gowns." Hermione answered him a smile.

She was met with a bewildered look on Ron's face, however, as he stared at the color palette in her hands.

"Hermione, they're all pink."

"They are not!" Ginny scolded her brother as she snatched the palette from her friend's grasp and raised it closer to her brother's face. " _This_ one is pink, but this other one is blush, and this one's rose –oh, Hermione, rose! It's perfect!"

"Ginny, I think you're right!" Hermione exclaimed as she reached for the color palette back. "It's dark enough for my liking, but it still gives off that lively, summery feel you were talking about. That's the one!"

"Great, we can head back to the boutique tomorrow!"

"Absolutely. And now you know what color the inside of your tuxedo vest has to be." Hermione grinned at Ron. He stared from the palette to his fiancée's face repeatedly before he let the  
corners of his mouth tug upwards.

"Are you sure me and the guys can't wear dress robes?"

"No!" Hermione and Ginny shouted. That's why Ron had begun smiling. He knew what their reaction would be and he got a good kick out of it whenever he suggested something that would  
ruffle their feathers.

"You, Harry, Fred, and George should start your fittings early." Hermione told him. Ron took a deep breath knowing full well it would be futile to say this next bit, but he figured he'd give it a go anyway.

"Hermione, you do realize that the wedding's eight months away, right?"

"And the earlier we get these things taken care of-"

"The less hectic it'll be later on." Ron finished with a grin. Hermione shook her head at him and let a smile come to her lips as well.

"If you know what I'm going to say, why do you ask questions like these?"

"Because the way you snap back at me is oddly attractive."

Hermione laughed and welcomed a kiss from Ron before he walked off to find his best man somewhere in the house. She turned back to her beaming maid of honor who sighed in  
contentment as her gaze fluctuated between her brother and almost sister-in-law.

"I'm so happy for you both." Ginny said. "The two of you together is _long_ overdue."

"Gin, we've been together for a little over three years."

"That's not what I meant."

Hermione bit her lower lip and nodded. Yes, she knew what she meant. Sometimes she thought that this pending wedding meant more to everyone else around her than to her or Ron. She could understand why, although it still nerve-wrecked her whenever someone either outright brought it up or discreetly hinted at "the barrier" that had kept her and Ron apart all this time.

"Hey, have you guys seen Ron?" Harry asked as he rolled up to them. Ginny gave him a quizzical look.

"Ron didn't find you? Merlin, the house isn't that big."

Harry shrugged. "Guess it's one more round I go to find him then. Oh, Hermione, this just came for you."

"Thanks, Harry." Hermione said appreciatively as she took the letter from him. While Harry walked off to continue his manhunt for Ron and Ginny moved onto looking at bridesmaid dress patterns instead of colors, Hermione was reading the brief letter sent by the Marriage Registration Department located in the Ministry of Magic.

"What does the letter say?"

"The Marriage Registration Department wants me to head down there. Preferably today, they added."

"Oh, your marriage license must be ready!" Ginny squealed excitedly. "I'm actually surprised they didn't ask you to come get it sooner. Didn't you and Ron file for that a month ago?"

"We did, but it doesn't matter now. So long as we can finally get it. I'll just find Ron and-"

"Erm, you'd better just go and get it yourself. If my husband and your fiancé can't find each other after they've been looking for the past ten minutes, you'd better not waste your time."

Hermione stifled a laugh. "Okay, fine, yes. Let him know where I've gone, alright?"

"Will do! And I'll have a slew of dress types for you to look over when you get back!"

_Yes_. Hermione thought to herself as she grabbed her bag from the floor and headed to the fireplace. _Definitely more excited than Ron and I combined._ She took a satisfying breath as she  
dropped down enough Floo Powder and allowed the emerald flames to whisk her away to the public Floo hub not more than two blocks away from the Ministry. The illustrious building was  
buzzing with witches and wizards filtering in and out; some with complacent expressions on their faces while others were boldly wearing an invisible "kill me now" sign on their foreheads. Whatever ailed the latter group Hermione hoped things would look up for them as she continued her way pass the crowd, into the lift, and to the appropriate floor that would take her to the Marriage Registration Department.

The last time she was here it was with Ron and it had taken them ages to finally meet with a kind elderly witch who recognized them immediately. She was ecstatic, over the moon really, to be the one to issue _Hermione Granger and Ronald Weasley_ a marriage license. It had been a decade since the war had ended and even now people still reacted to her, Ron, and Harry with  
extreme gratitude for their efforts. This had been no different and it had also made filing for their marriage license an even longer process.

But now Hermione was here and she smiled broadly as she walked up to a wizard's window. "Hi, I'm here to pick up my marriage license?"

"Your name?"

"Hermione Granger,"

The wizard had had his glasses on top of his head. When they slipped down and fitted neatly over his eyes, his gaze lighted up and Hermione immediately felt her cheeks redden.

"Oh, Miss Granger! A pleasure, a right pleasure! You're getting married to Ronald Weasley, aren't you? Let me check on that license for you!"

"Thank you," Hermione said politely. The wizard disappeared from the window which afforded her the opportunity to realize that several pairs of eyes had darted in her direction. That only made her skin flush even further and she tapped her foot anxiously for the wizard to come back. After an agonizing two minutes, almost three, a door to her far left had opened. A pretty, middle-aged woman had walked out and, without closing the door behind her, had strode down the aisle until she was neatly by Hermione's side.

"Miss Granger, it's lovely to meet you. My name is Agnes Canterbury." 

Ms. Canterbury reached out her hand to Hermione who took it cordially, but all the while with a confused look on her face.

"It's nice to meet you as well. Um...is there something wrong?"

"There's...a slight complication, yes. Would you mind following me to my office?"

Hermione frowned, but obliged anyway. She followed the witch down the aisle and back to the door which led them to a corridor filled with nothing but offices. Eventually they entered the last one at the end of the hall and both women took their respective seats –one behind the modestly-sized desk and the other, befuddled and sitting in a plush leather chair.

"You said there was a complication?" Hermione asked. "Did my fiancé and I fill out some of the paperwork incorrectly?"

"No, no, it has nothing to do with the particular marriage license that both you and Mr. Weasley filed. On the contrary, it would have been given to you the same week you had registered for it, but…"

"But?"

"A discrepancy came up." Ms. Canterbury said reluctantly. "We assumed that the discrepancy was a mistake and we were doing all that we could on our end to right it, but it doesn't seem to be working so we wanted to reach out to you."

Hermione felt her throat run dry. She wanted to say something, _anything_ , but did it matter? It shouldn't have mattered. It had been taken care of years ago. So why would it matter now?

"We have in our records –and I do apologize for this," Ms. Canterbury said with a small chuckle. "That you're married to Mr. Draco Malfoy."

The witch was laughing now, however professional she was keeping it, and was obviously waiting for Hermione to join in. The laughter turned into an awkward one when she realized that she was the only one in a fit of hysterics. Ms. Canterbury stopped soon enough, her eyes growing wide at the young heroine bashfully running her right hand up her other arm.

"We took care of the divorce a long time ago." Hermione told her, trying her best to ignore the shocked expression the woman was giving her. "Why is this coming up?"

Ms. Canterbury blinked repeatedly as though to bring herself back. "Uh...well...uh… There's no divorce on record, Miss Granger. It shows here that the two of you are still married."

Hermione's eyes bulged. "Surely you must be joking!"

"I'm afraid not. There must have been a clerical error of some sort at the time of your filing. As it stands, you are indeed married to Mr. Malfoy."

Hermione felt sick. Her head felt light and her body was stiff. _Still married…?_ **_Still married?_** How could this be? She and Draco went down to this same department four years ago to finalize their divorce and it had been assured to them that everything was set. That they were officially single. There had been no need for her to change her name as she had never changed it in the first place. It was fine. It was _supposed_ to be fine. And now "the barrier" that most people claimed to have kept her and Ron apart for a solid three years was back in their lives, keeping them apart yet again.

"Draco and I need a divorce _right now_." Hermione said quickly. "Ms. Canterbury, _please_."

"Well, as you know it's much easier getting married than getting divorced." Ms. Canterbury began as she rose from her seat to rifle through a cabinet drawer or two. "Wizarding marriages are considered binding-"

"Yes, yes, I know, and we did everything that we were supposed to."

Ms. Canterbury arched a brow. "You met with the marriage official who performed the ceremony in the first place?"

"Yes."

"And talked out your and Mr. Malfoy's differences with him?"

"Yes."

"And you... _broke_ the vows?"

Hermione frowned. She hated remembering that part. When witches and wizards got married, their vows were a connection of their hearts, and the magic imbued in a wedding ceremony made that connection very real. In a divorce it was the breaking of those vows, of that connection. When the marriage official went about it for her and Draco, it had been a rather...unbearable process.

She literally felt her heart break.

"Yes." She said softly, her hand absentmindedly running over her chest. She looked up at Ms. Canterbury whose eyes had softened at the display. Hermione removed her hand and cupped it  
with the other. "And the only thing that was left was to sign the divorce papers, which we did."

"Well, it appears that those papers were never processed. You and Mr. Malfoy may be unlinked magically, but in the eyes of wizarding law, you're still Mrs. Malfoy."

Ms. Canterbury had finally stopped shuffling through her cabinet drawers and unrolled some parchment in front of Hermione. She recognized it as a new set of divorce papers. "Since you had managed to do everything else for the divorce, the signing of these will make it final."

"Oh, thank you." Hermione said with relief. She rolled up the parchment pieces and eagerly stuffed it into her bag. "Thank you so much. I'll sign these, have Draco sign them-"

Hermione paused. _Have Draco sign them…_ Her heart slowed just at the mere thought of it. She could very well tie the divorce papers to the leg of an owl and send it off, but she'd drive herself mad if she had. What if the owl lost them? What if something happened to the owl? What if Draco was away and it took the bird too long to reach him? And then to fly back? All of the negatives of sending the blessed parchment roll by owl were rolling around in her mind and she couldn't bring herself to do it. No more screw ups this time. She wanted to make sure these papers were signed and as soon as possible.

She would have to go see Draco in person.

* * *

**Author's note:** Do forgive any formatting errors! First time posting on here, and admittedly, it's far easier to post/format on ffnet lol.

-WP


	2. Signatures

It was a late Friday afternoon, and as all Fridays (or any day really) when he found himself with nothing to do, Draco sat in his study with a book in his hands. He wanted to finish it by Monday so after a quick stop in London he could head to the local library, return the one he was reading, and pick out another. He did this every week –a habit he’d picked up somewhere around seven or so years ago. It kept him going, he had to admit, and he liked the twinge of excitement he felt when he knew he’d have a new volume to read as soon as the week began.

As Draco turned a page, the magically amplified knocking on his front door was heard. Draco furrowed his brow. If anyone came to visit him they certainly would be using the Floo rather than standing at the door. And so, he patiently waited until one of his house elves went to answer it and brought the visitor to his study. It was a big house, and so he took back up his reading until he could hear footsteps nearing the room and finally stopping just outside the open door.

“Miss Hermione Granger, Master Malfoy.”

Draco dropped his book. He stared at his ex-wife with wide eyes as she smiled awkwardly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, and gently waving. “Hello, Draco.”

He must’ve looked like a stag caught in the eyes by a strong  _ lumos _ spell. Eventually, and perhaps not soon enough to avoid looking stupid, he blinked and came to his senses. He finally greeted her albeit in a not-so-pleasant sounding way.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

Hermione frowned. She continued to stand in the doorway as she fidgeted with the hems of her sleeves. “I came to ask for a favor.”

Draco’s eyes narrowed. “It’s been years, and you’ve come out of the blue and after all this time for a  _ favor? _ ”

“Four years is a long time, yes-”

“Five, but who’s counting…”

“Yes, well, it’s less of a favor and more of an obligation.”

Draco was confused now as Hermione finally entered the study. She walked over to his large mahogany desk as she shuffled through some things in her bag that undoubtedly had an undetectable extension charm placed on it. As she walked, he noted that she maneuvered the room that was covered in random bits of furniture (without bumping into anything) with extreme ease. As well she should. This used to be her favorite room and he hadn’t changed a single thing about it since she left.

“I need you to sign these.”

Draco looked down at the roll of parchment that had been set on his desk. He glanced up at her once before reaching over and unrolling it. He leaned his head forward closer to the parchment as he read over the title of the documents that she had presented him with.

“Divorce papers? But we signed these years ago.” Draco said, one of his hands absentmindedly travelling across his chest. Hermione stifled a frown as her own heart fluttered.

“I know, but apparently there’d been a clerical error.” Hermione mused bitterly. “The divorce never went through. I only found out because I went to pick up my marriage license yesterday and got denied.”

Draco snapped his eyes away from the divorce papers and settled them on her left hand that was resting on the desk. There was in fact an engagement ring settled on her finger. He clicked his tongue at it, noting that it was at least two sizes smaller than the one he’d given her.

Must’ve been some poor bloke.

“Congratulations,” he said unenthusiastically as he reached for a quill and some ink. “Who’s the lucky guy?”

“I guess you don’t peruse the announcement sections of the Daily Prophet.” Hermione chuckled. “It’s Ron.”

The quill in Draco’s hand had stopped in its journey to the parchment.

Ron.

_ Weasley. _

**_Weasel._ **

Draco stared at her with his mouth slightly agape. “ _ Weasley? _ You’re getting married to  _ Weasley? _ ”

“Yes, I am. The papers?” Hermione urged with a gentle nod to the parchment. But Draco had completely blocked the divorce papers from his line of sight. He simply couldn’t stop his eyes from moving between her face and the ring whose small size now made sense.

He let the quill fall from between his fingers and leaned back in his chair. “Weasley? Seriously, Hermione?”

Hermione rolled her eyes. This was taking much longer than it needed to. “Yes _. _ Can you just-?”

“For Merlin’s sake, Hermione.” Draco exclaimed as he stared at her. “Of all the wizards to come after me you chose Redhead _ effing  _ **_Weasley_ ** _? _ ”

Hermione let out an exasperated sigh and reached over the desk for the quill that had been absentmindedly discarded. She held it out to him with pleading eyes. “Sign the divorce papers, Draco.”

Draco was now flickering his attention between the quill and the divorce papers in front of him. If it was just a regular divorce, fine. If it was so she could marry some intelligent, well-mannered, well-off, well-to-do wizard, then okay. But to sign away his ex-wife –no, his  _ wife _ –to the Weasel?

“No.”

Hermione’s face fell. “No?”

“No.” Draco said again. “Just so you can marry Weasley? I don’t think so.”

Hermione stared at Draco like he’d gone mad. Surely he must have. She held the quill even tighter in her hand and pushed it even closer to his face. “Sign the papers.”

“I said no.”

Hermione slammed the quill down on the desk and Draco watched as it snapped in half and as his wife groaned in frustration. “Why not?! Draco, you thought that you were single for  _ four years _ -!”

“Five,”

“ _ Whatever! _ Doesn’t this bother you? You should be jumping over the bloody moon!”

“And I would be were it not for the redhead problem.”

“Redhead problem? _The redhead problem?!_ _You’re_ the problem! Just sign-!”

“You deserve better than him.” Draco said sternly. “Weasley can’t handle you as a wife.”

Hermione growled. “Oh, so I need to be handled?”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Then **_what_** did you mean?”

“I mean that you’re setting yourself up for a sorry excuse of a future. Insipid conversation, whining, crying…”

Hermione pursed her lips. “Don’t go getting all high and mighty with me. We both know you’ve made me cry before.”

“I have.” Draco admitted. “But you can count those times on one hand. Can you do the same for Weasley?”

Hermione huffed, refusing to answer because it would only prove his point. “I’m a grown woman, Draco, and I can do what I want.”

“Yes. And so can I.”

Draco reached over for the divorce papers and lifted them up. Hermione was certain he was about to rip them to pieces, but he didn’t. Instead he placed them in the top drawer of his desk and locked it shut. She watched him with utter rage shaking through her, but she wouldn’t lash out. Instead she took long, deep breaths, and pinched the bridge of her nose.

“Please tell me that you’ve locked the divorce papers in your drawer because you’re going to sign them later and owl them to me.”

“No,” he said once again in that determined tone. “You’re not getting these back, signed or otherwise, anytime soon. You need time to think.”

Hermione snatched her hand away from her nose and snarled. “Time to think about what?! I don’t need time to think about anything! This is all about  _ you! _ Were I getting married to anyone else you wouldn’t be this bloody difficult.”

“You’re right, I wouldn’t. But I want the best for you, Hermione. I once thought it was me, but we’re the most volatile concoction on the planet. How we managed to last two years, I’ll never figure out,” Draco added with a laugh. “Regardless, you deserve the best, and Weasley’s not it.”

A sigh escaped Hermione’s lips as she massaged her temples with rolling thumbs. This was Draco. Typical Draco. Always seeking out her protection in his own way however much it annoyed her to the core.

“I appreciate your care, Draco, however arse-backwards it may be. But my well-being, emotional or otherwise, isn’t of your concern.”

“I don’t know,” he shrugged, a lazy smirk scrawling onto his features. “Considering you’re still my wife, I think it is my concern.”

Hermione was moments from ripping her hair out. She knew her ex-husband –no, her  _ husband _ –well. He was a stubborn mule, just like herself, and when he made up his mind there was nothing that could be done to change it.

“Fine,” she eventually finally gritted out. “I’ll think about it as you say. But only if you do too.”

Draco scrunched his brows together. “Think about what?”

“Why we wanted to get a divorce in the first place. Maybe then you’ll realize that Ron is good for me, and you’ll send me those papers  _ signed _ first thing in the morning.”

Hermione turned on her heel then and stormed out of the study. A short few minutes later he impressively heard the front door slam, even from this distance. Against his better judgement, Draco did as Hermione said. He thought about what had contributed to their divorce and the answer turned out to be a combination of a lot of things. For one thing, just because he had loved Hermione and had married her, it didn’t mean he wasn’t still a prat. He still thought her hair was a bushy mess, that she was an utter Know-It-All, and that she was stubborn as hell. She read too much and too often. He was sick and tired of hearing her find the good in everyone and everything. And if he had to endure a rant about why he should set his house elves free just one more time (although he  _ had _ eventually let them go) he would have had to throttle her.

But it was the things that irritated him that he had grown to love. Had Hermione not done or been any of those things, well, she wouldn’t have been Hermione. Draco supposed it had been the same for her or else she wouldn’t have loved or married him either. He had still abhorred her friends –particularly  _ Weasley _ , who out of everyone in her circle tried to make her leave him on a near day-to-day basis. He had stopped calling muggleborns “mudbloods” long ago, but he still had a penchant for avoiding all muggle places and preferring to dine and shop at locations predominantly wizard owned.

But that was how they worked.

Hermione yelled at him. Draco yelled back. The screaming match would continue until the house was left in a deafening quiet. By the end of the night, and depending on who was wrong, Hermione would roll over in bed and whisper an “I’m sorry,” then proceeding to nuzzle her nose into his neck. Draco, too bold and too proud to apologize, would go to one of the spare bedrooms she was sleeping in, stand in the doorway and say, “Come to bed?” Hermione would never accept, of course, and in his brusque manner and a cross of his arms he would say some variation of, “Do I honestly have to drag you?” That would do it. And both of their apologies would lead to a night of love-making and the subsequent forgetting of why they’d been mad in the first place.

Unknowingly, Draco began to smile. It faltered when his eyes caught sight of the drawer where the divorce papers lay. A particularly nasty row had taken place between them that had started the decline of their marriage. It had concerned children.

Potter’s Missus had been expecting and it had kicked Hermione’s need to mother someone into overdrive. Not once had they ever discussed having children. It probably would’ve been a good idea to have had that kind of talk  _ before _ getting married, but he had wanted her, she had wanted him, and that was as far into the future either of them had been seeing at the moment.

When Hermione had brought up the tentative subject of having kids, Draco had tensed up. He wanted them, he really did, but he just wasn’t sure that it was a good idea to have them with  _ her _ . And that was the worst thing he could’ve ever said. Hermione dug into him like termites into wood and Draco fought hard to defend himself. They already had enough time dealing with each other’s friends and family as a couple. What about their kid? Hermione had argued with him, saying that it would only be his side of the family that would have an issue.

“Can’t have a half-blood as a Malfoy heir, now can we?” She had taunted. “A mudblood for a wife is bad enough!”

That had made Draco furious, and it was that fight that had been the catalyst for everything. It brought up notions of being ashamed, of love not being enough, of prejudices, and questioning whether they could continue to make it together.

It’d been a long, hectic, and heartbreaking six months. Although it had been five years since then, everything about their breakup still felt very recent. Draco sighed then and frowned. Eventually he made up his mind about  _ exactly _ what he’d do about this divorce/getting remarried situation.

* * *

 

Hermione went home. She knew that Ron would still be at Harry and Ginny’s, but she couldn’t be around him right now. She needed to be alone. She needed to _ think _ as Draco put it, but not necessarily about what he had wanted her to think on. And as her should-be ex-husband’s face filtered to the forefront of her vision she let out an earth-shattering shout into the air. Had anyone heard her they’d think she was getting murdered. But surely she was dying, wasn’t she? She was being emotionally tortured to death and it was slow and agonizing.

How dare Draco? How dare he presume to know what was best for her? Sure he may have known her for as long as Ron did, but did he  _ really _ know her? Taunts and other acts of bullying didn’t qualify. He’d only begun getting close to her one year after the Battle of Hogwarts. Yes, they’d dated for a year, and yes they’d shared a marriage bed for two years, but that didn’t mean he could so brashly tear down her choice in husband number two. And he  _ certainly _ couldn’t compare himself to Ron! Looking back on it now, her marriage with Draco had been an utter disaster! They teased each other daily as though they were still schoolchildren. When they actually fought it was a terrible array of foul names until the silent treatment replaced their shouts. Sure, they always made up by the end of the day (a silent vow that they’d never go to bed angry), but no marriage should be wrought with as much turmoil as theirs had been. And sure, okay, being who he was and being who she was arguments were practically a guarantee, but it was only a matter a time before words were said that couldn’t be taken back.

And that’s what had happened.

It’d been awful. Really,  _ really _ awful. Couple that with confirmation from friends and family (Ron, more specifically), Hermione realized that being with Draco was no good for her. No good for either of them. They both sat down together one night six months after the beginning of the slow death of their marriage. It was the most civil they’d been with each other at the time, and their divorce was the one thing that had been the easiest to agree upon. But even then, Hermione did cry, alone, in one of the spare bedrooms that night. She had heard Draco doing the same some several feet down the hall.

 

 


	3. Compromises

Hermione woke up entangled with Ron as she always did. It wasn’t as sweet as it sounded. They were a mess of body parts –his arm resting awkwardly across her neck in an almost choking fashion, one of her legs curled back behind her and laying underneath one of his own, her hair fanned back and falling all over his face, and somehow a bit of drool from his mouth managing to drip onto the start of her back.

It was a hideously romantic sight.

As the sun rose higher in the sky Ron was beginning to wake up. Good then. Hermione  _ really _ had to use the bathroom. She smiled as she found the best way to easily extract herself from her fiancé, but when she finally did he was fully awake and wrapping his arms around her in a tighter hold.

“It’s too early,” Ron mumbled. Hermione held in her laugh and snuggled into his arms.

“It’s always ‘too early’ for you.”

“Then I don’t know why you try to leave the bed before I’m awake.”

Hermione pursed her lips and playfully hit his arm. “Maybe because I’m hungry? And maybe because I was going to head downstairs to make breakfast?”

“Breakfast?”

She could imagine the look on his face and she couldn’t help her smile. “Mhmm. Ginny and I are heading to the boutique today. It’s going to be a long afternoon, so I figured that I’d go all out. Pancakes, eggs, sausages, a bit of porridge –hey, what are you doing?”

The bed had shifted and Ron was sliding himself off of it. “Heading downstairs to the kitchen. Let’s go.”

_ Ah, yes, that would do it _ , Hermione thought to herself. She held in her elated gasp when Ron picked her up in his arms and carried her out of the bedroom, down the hall, and to the left where their open kitchen was. She was gracefully set onto her feet as he perched himself on a seat at the kitchen counter and watched her get to work. Most women would probably frown at the scene, but contrary to the way it looked, Ron would love to help her out as she moved about the kitchen. Hermione, on the other hand, had banned him from ever being in the kitchen after he’d burned his left hand and upper right arm somehow or another.

“Hey, what did you do with the marriage license?” Ron suddenly asked. Hermione broke the egg in her hand the moment he mentioned the license, but luckily the egg had been positioned over the frying pan. She swallowed deeply, happy that her face wasn’t towards him.

“I, um… I passed by my mum and dad and asked them to hold onto it for us,” she lied. She could feel the confusion on Ron’s face, but she quickly doled out a false explanation. “The apartment is only going to become a mess within the next couple of months with all of the wedding things. Color swatches, bridal subscriptions, finalizing the invitations… I’d just feel more comfortable if the license was kept away from the mess.”

“If you think that’s best,” he replied with a shrug. “Ginny’s got her living room floor covered in clipped out magazine pictures and it’s not even her wedding.”

Hermione laughed. Yes, that’s the scene she and Ron had left the Potter house in late last night. Ginny had wanted to help her get a head start on various dress types so they could save time at the boutique later on that day. She even got James and Albus (who were four and two years old, respectively) to help out, although they did cause a bit more of a mess than anything else. Regardless, Hermione was quite glad for the help. Ginny  _ had _ had a wedding before after all, not to mention any type of party-planning was right up the redhead’s alley.

“Here comes the morning mail. Right on time,” Ron said as he spied the morning owl that always came through the charmed window exactly at eight in the morning. Hermione let him attend to the fallen pile and knew that the most of it would be for her. She’d begun subscribing to everything bridal from the moment she and Ron got engaged the month before. She’d also been contacting various venue owners and getting general information to run by Ron before the October’s end. He had given her free reign to do any and everything she wanted for the wedding and he promised that he’d agree. “You deserve to get what you want,” he had said, and so Hermione smiled broadly and ran with it.

“Hey, you’ve got a letter from work.”

“On a Saturday?”

“Hard to believe there are people who work harder than you, huh?”

Hermione rolled her eyes as she reluctantly used her wand to keep the breakfast going. Anyone willing to owl her on a weekend insinuated some sort of chaos at the office so she figured that she would attend to it quickly. As her eyes roamed over the letter that had the Ministry seal at the back, her department’s name, and her name on the front, her brows furrowed. It screamed a Ministry official letter, but Hermione knew better. Her gaze flitted up to Ron who was busily reading through the Daily Prophet for anything having to do with Quidditch. She risked opening the letter in front of him and scanned it quickly.

_ Iverson Square _

_ 11am _

_ D. _

Hermione supposed it was a good idea that Draco hadn’t owled the divorce papers. She hadn’t wanted to do it in the first place, so she was happy that he had come to the same conclusion. Sort of. This meant that she had to find a way to get away from Ron  _ and _ still be on time for Ginny since they were supposed to meet up in London at noon.

“I have to head to the Ministry for a bit,” Hermione said as she folded the letter back and stuffed it into one of her pajama bottoms’ pockets. “It shouldn’t take very long –an hour at most. I can head there after breakfast.”

Ron chuckled. “That department would fall apart without you.”

“And why wouldn’t it?” She grinned. “I created it anyway.”

* * *

 

Iverson Square was a quaint little town with a population so small that everyone knew everyone else. Hermione and Draco used to spend a lot of time there because they had the best tea and pastry shop one could imagine. As she sat on a bench overlooking the entrance to the small park she thought she might pop into said tea and pastry shop, for old time’s sake, when her chest began to ache.

Hermione frowned. Getting a divorce as a witch or wizard also had another nasty consequence, not to mention a long-lasting one. The heart always longed to be connected again. When she and Draco had broken their vows, the ensuing weeks were soul-crushing. She’d already felt terrible that her marriage with him had ended, and it didn’t help that she felt like she was having a non-fatal heart attack. Hell, it  _ should _ have been fatal. The pain. The anxiety. The feeling that she would absolutely die without him. She almost ran back to him a few times because of it, but she  _ had _ to push through. And she did. Her broken heart had healed over time, but being back in Draco’s presence, even for only one day, had brought the pain back.

Looking at Draco now as he grew closer, his hand gravitating to his chest every now again, Hermione knew that he had to be feeling the same. She sighed and stood.

“Forgery is a new one for you. How did you even know that I still worked at the Ministry?”

“Oh please,” Draco said as he crossed his arms. “It took you forever to build up the Department for the Care and Protection of Magical Creatures. There wasn’t a chance you’d abandon it.”

He had a point.

“Fair enough. Alright, hand it over.”

Draco cocked a brow at her and chuckled. “What, that’s it? Straight down to business? Not even a bite at Eileen’s Tea and Pastries first?”

“After how you carried on yesterday?” Hermione scoffed despite desperately wanting to bite into a scone. “I’m in no mood for pleasantries. Just give me the divorce papers and I’ll be-”

“I don’t have them.”

“You...you, what?”

“I don’t have them,” Draco said again. “I meant what I said yesterday, and I doubt one night is enough time to think.”

Hermione yanked on her hair and growled in frustration. Had she no control over her anger she would’ve pulled out her wand and hexed him right then and there. But what good would it do anyway? It’d certainly make her feel better, but the divorce papers still wouldn’t be signed and she’d still be in her current sticky situation.

“Ugh, Draco, why do you see to torment me?” Hermione frowned viciously. “Despite the fact that we were getting a divorce, I was under the impression that you still loved me a great deal.”

“And I did,” he nodded. “Still do. That’s why I can’t let you make a mistake. Obviously, any negative comments about Weasley will only make you cling to him that much harder, so I’ve settled on something else.”

Hermione stared at him suspiciously. “Something else?”

“Yes. We’re going to go see a marriage counselor.”

“A marriage counselor?” She repeated with wide eyes. “Draco, you’re mad. You’re mad! You wouldn’t even go to one when I suggested it four years ago-!”

“Five,-”

“And now you want to go see one? What the hell is that going to accomplish?”

“For one thing, it’ll put you one step closer to me signing those divorce papers.”

That shut Hermione up. Draco resisted the urge to smile triumphantly and continued while she wasn’t on the offensive.

“I do intend on signing them, Hermione,” he said seriously. “I just want to make sure that when you’re finally free of me that you’re heading in a direction that’s good for you. You were at your happiest with me. I know that. You know that. You feel so strongly about your relationship with Weasley? Test it. See if it measures up to ours.”

Draco was baiting her. She knew it. It felt like a dare that if she didn’t take would only prove that she didn’t think her relationship with Ron would stand a chance. But did that matter? There had to be more than one way to push a divorce through without having the other party sign. With her brains and fierce determination she was sure that she could find it. However, as she continued to stand there, staring at Draco’s  _ smug face _ , she just couldn’t bring herself to take that option.  _ “See if it measures up to ours,” _ he says.  _ “Test it,” _ he says. He thought that her relationship with Ron was nothing, ridiculous even, and Hermione refused to let Draco think that way.

Hermione took a deep, long breath before eventually nodding. “For how long?”

“However long it takes.”

She bit back the urge to say something harsh. She only nodded before letting a smile form on her lips. “Fine. We can go see a marriage counselor. But it’ll be one that  _ I _ choose.”

Draco eyed her wearily. It wasn’t often that she had such an evil gleam in her eye, but when she did, it was usually because she was planning something he wouldn’t like.

“Deal,”

“It’s settled then. I’ll find one and give you the details as soon as possible. I’ll see you then.”

“Wait,” Draco called as Hermione abruptly turned so she could head to the apparation spot. “Are you really in that much of a hurry? You don’t want to head into Eileen’s?”

_ Yes. _

“No, I can’t,” Hermione told him. “I have to meet up with Ginny in a bit. Sorry.”

“No worries. I’ll just have to eat a strawberry scone with chocolate drizzle for you.”

Hermione’s face softened in pleasure at the idea of such a scone (as it was her favorite) and saw Draco smile smugly at her features. He bid her farewell with a slight nod of his head and walked away with his hands in pockets. She stared after him. A second later she scowled when he gave her a back wave as though he just  _ knew _ she would be watching.

Bloody typical.

* * *

 

“Can I see the sweetheart neckline dress? Chiffon fabric, please? Same length.”

The dressmaker smiled contentedly as she waved her wand to adjust the rose-colored dress from its halter-type design and satin fabric into what Hermione had suggested. She smiled as it transformed and with a side-glance to Ginny both women were nodding in satisfaction.

The perfect bridesmaid’s dress.

It made Hermione’s choice in Ginny’s maid of honor dress all the more easier. Same fabric, same neckline, just floor-length as opposed to the knee-length dress the bridesmaids would be wearing. At least that was one thing down. Dress fittings could be scheduled a bit later. Perhaps next month. At least Hermione didn’t have to worry about this. Her wedding dress was the biggest headache at the moment, and despite Ginny’s persistence, she wasn’t up for it this afternoon. Especially not with thoughts of Draco running through her head.

Doing this after seeing him reminded Hermione of all the things she  _ didn’t _ have when she and Draco had gotten married. No bridesmaids, no groomsmen, no maid of honor, no reception after. She didn’t even have a wedding dress. She had worn a simple white dress she had had in her closet at the time and Draco had chosen a rather nice suit (albeit also from his closet at home). It had been a spur of the moment, almost-midnight decision after they had spent the day together reminiscing. Draco hadn’t even properly proposed to her. They had been walking along, arms linked, and with his head cocked to one side as he looked at her lovingly he’d said, “Let’s get married.”

Hermione’s response hadn’t been very typical either. She had thought for a moment or two, cocked her head to one side as well, and said with a smile, “Alright. But I’m keeping my last name.” Draco had agreed and they both went home to find wedding-appropriate attire. They found a nighttime chapel in a small wizarding town, had gotten married, and went home to start their lives as husband and wife. It was interesting to say the least and so… _ them _ .

And that’s why she’d made plans concerning her blond pest and knew  _ exactly _ how to handle this marriage counseling situation.

* * *

 

It’d been a little over one week since Draco had met up with Hermione and had given her his conditions prior to signing the divorce papers. To be honest, he didn’t think that she would give in so easily. It just wasn’t like her. Maybe being with Weasley after all this time had dulled the fiery passion that he’d always loved about her?  _ That _ would certainly make sense. But as Draco thought about their few moments back in Iverson Square, and most certainly her outrage back in his study, he knew for a certain that that wasn’t true. What tipped it off most for him was the way that she had looked when she said that she would be the one to find a marriage counselor for them.

The way she had looked.

The way she’d said it.

It hadn’t sat very well with him then and after having the week to think about it, it still didn’t. And now, after reading the letter she’d just sent him and staring twice as hard at the address of the marriage counselor she had contacted, that glint in her eye finally made sense.

“A muggle counselor?!” He hissed as he stood in front of his wife before a five-foot bricked building along a busy road. “You brought us to a  _ muggle _ counselor?!”

“Oh, untie your knickers, will you?” Hermione hissed back. Her eyes were narrow and her voice firm, but she was clearly enjoying herself at his expense. “The odds of us getting recognized is practically nothing by going to a muggle counselor. Had we not, whoever we would’ve seen would’ve been too star-struck to do his or her job properly.”

Draco snorted. "Star-struck? Really, Hermione? And you tell  _ me _ I'm full of myself."

Hermione shot him a glare as she led the way into the building and towards the elevator. "Just make sure you watch what you say. No need to have him think we're both mad if we start talking about magic."

“Right, of course, of course,” Draco brooded as he watched the elevator door close and Hermione press three. “If we went to a wizard or witch we wouldn’t have this problem!”

“Think of it as a lesson on how to restrain your mouth,” Hermione grinned. “I’m sure even after all this time you could still use a bit of practice with that.”

Draco scowled. Hermione was loving this, he knew. Her cocky grin. The way she eyed him every now again. The laugh that hummed in her throat. Yes, she enjoyed his extreme discomfort, and all he could think about as they left the elevator and walked down the corridor towards the  _ muggle counselor’s _ office, was one thing.

_ Well played, Hermione. Well,  _ **_bloody_ ** _ played. _


	4. Dr Milligan

Hermione had gotten the name of a marriage counselor through one of the waitresses at one of her favorite muggle restaurants just outside of London. She and the waitress, Arlene, often talked and shared pleasantries while she was there and it was how the topic of the woman’s marital problems often came about. Arlene had told her about a marriage counselor that she and her husband went to and how great of a help he was. Of course they still had their problems, but at least they weren’t trying to kill each other. Hermione, on the other hand, wasn’t trying to fix her and Draco’s problems. In her mind they’d been divorced for four –no,  _ five _ years already and whatever problems they had didn’t matter anymore. All she wanted was a marriage counselor that would piss Draco off, and going to a muggle one was fulfilling her dreams more than she could’ve imagined.

“Ah, right on time,” the counselor said as he stood and greeted his new clients. “My name is Dr. Milligan.”

“Pleasure to meet you. I’m Hermione and this is my  _ husband- _ ” She nearly choked on the word, “Draco.” Hermione shook his hand. She could tell that Draco very much didn’t want to greet the man the same way she had, but he grit his teeth and did it anyway. “Thank you so much for seeing us.”

“Of course, of course. Now, before we get started let’s get the counseling session terms understood, shall we? The first session is always free, and if you both decide to continue it’ll be one hundred fifty pounds per session. Typically there’s only one session per week, and you can decide if you’d like to keep them on Tuesdays or a different day. A few of these sessions will also be solo ones, but those won’t happen until much later. Sessions will be question and answer and there’ll also be a few assignments along the way-”

“Assignments?” Draco questioned. Dr. Milligan nodded.

“Activities for you and your wife to take part in outside of my office.”

“I see,” Draco began to smile. Hermione, on the other hand, felt her stomach clench and she wondered just what those  _ assignments _ would be.

"So, unless either of you have questions, let’s get started. How long have you been married?"

"Two years,"

"Seven years,"

Dr. Milligan stared between his clients who were both staring at each other. Hermione sighed.

"Technically speaking," she explained. "It's been seven. We filed for divorce four years ago-”

“ _ Five _ ,”

“Right,  _ five _ years ago, but apparently it never went through. We'd only been married and living together as such for two."

"Hmm, alright then. If you've been separated for that long already, why see me? Why not just register for a divorce again?"

Hermione scowled. "Blackmail-"

Draco cut her off with a laugh. "What my wife  _ meant _ to say was that we wanted to see if some time apart did us some good before we went and registered for divorce again."

"Oh, well I can see how you’d want to do that," Dr. Milligan nodded. “In fact, many couples find that some time apart allows them to reflect on what they love and miss most about their significant others. Gives them some motivation to work things out.”

Hermione snorted.

“Did I say something wrong?”

“Sorry,” Hermione apologized. “But believe me when I say that our time apart has  _ not _ given me motivation to work anything out with him.”

“None whatsoever?”

“How could she?” Draco asked with his face fixed in a scowl. “She was distracted by a bloody redhead.”

Dr. Milligan cocked a brow. “You’ve been dating someone, Hermione?”

“I was for about three years, yes. I’m not seeing him anymore,” Hermione lied. She missed the quizzical look Draco was giving her, nor did she see when he looked at her hands. Her engagement ring was still present, but it was on her right hand instead of her left.

_ Interesting. _

“Oh. And after five years of supposed divorce this bothers you?” Dr. Milligan asked Draco.

“Let’s put it this way,” Draco began as he settled himself more comfortably on the long sofa. “If her  _ ex _ suddenly fell into a ten-foot deep ditch and I saw it happen, I’d pull up a chair with tea and a pastry and watch him suffer all day and night.”

“Draco!”

Draco shrugged. “Hey, he asked.”

“Can I assume then that you knew her ex personally?”

“We all went to school together,” Hermione explained, still shooting daggers at Draco. “Draco had never liked him then either.”

“Boarding school?” Dr. Milligan interjected. He grinned. “I went to boarding school. Which one did you go to?”

“Yes, Hermione,” Draco said spitefully as he twisted his body to look at her better. “Do tell him which  _ school _ we went to.”

_ Damn _ . Clearly, as bright as she was she hadn’t thought that one through.  _ Which one did my cousin go to? Whitmore? Wilshire? Wolman? _

“Wellington College,”

“Oh, I went there!”

_ Merlin… _

“Y-you did?”

Dr. Milligan nodded. “Class of 1990, which I’m sure is before either of you two got there. “Tell me, was Headmaster Gordon’s annoying pet bird still flying around the dining hall during meals?”

“Um, well…”

“Sorry, you don’t have to answer that,” Dr. Milligan interrupted. “There’ll be plenty of time to talk about non-counseling matters later. So, back to you and Draco-”

Hermione let out a sigh of relief.

“-You had been friends since school then?”

Dr. Milligan was surprised at the laughter that erupted in the room. Both of his clients were laughing hysterically, even going as far as wiping tears that had fallen from their eyes.

“Ron, my ex, he and I were friends,” Hermione said.

“I was just the bully that tortured the hell out of them,” Draco piled on.

Hermione gave him a side-eye look before adding, “You’d still torture Ron if the opportunity presented itself.”

“Damn right.”

“Well, that’s interesting enough,” Dr. Milligan chuckled as he took in the bright, smiling faces staring at him. “Why don’t we talk about it then? Your time at school together and what your relationship was like.”

Draco’s smile only grew bigger as he rested his hands behind his head. “You might want to cancel whatever appointment is coming after us then. That’s going to take a while.”

“And that’s what the second session would be for.”

…………………………………

“Admit it,” Hermione said once the session was over and she and Draco were in the elevator to take them back to the ground floor. “You liked Dr. Milligan.”

Draco shrugged. “He’s alright. For a muggle…”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “How on earth could you still be so insufferable concerning muggle and muggleborn matters?”

“Mal-foy. Does that explain it for you?”

Unfortunately, it did. The two of them made it to the ground floor and exited the building. They walked silently to the apparation spot until Hermione brought up a topic that she knew would make the vein in Draco’s neck throb.

“Obviously, this one session won’t suffice for you and you’ll want another. You have to set up a payment plan with him.”

Draco stopped walking. “ _ Excuse me? _ Don’t you mean  _ we? _ ”

Hermione pursed her lips and shook her head. “No. I meant you.”

_ There goes the vein. _

“I’m  _ not _ paying for this bloody thing myself.”

“Well, Draco, as I recall I didn’t want to go to this ‘bloody thing’ in the first place. It was your idea. You pay for it.”

Draco huffed. “Oh yeah, sure. I’ll just head to my muggle bank and give him a couple notes. You’re talking to a wizard remember?!”

“Oh yes, I do. And that’s why there’s a wizard currency exchange booth we passed just a block back,” Hermione beamed at him. “You can withdraw from your Gringotts vault as though you were standing right in front of it and the money will  _ instantly _ turn into muggle money! Isn’t that great?”

Were Draco a dragon Hermione was sure he’d be breathing fire right about now. He opened his mouth to speak several times, each time failing miserably and possibly growing redder in the face the longer he stared at his wife’s triumphant expression.

“Hell,” he swore as he scowled deeply. “If I didn’t still love you a little I’d throttle you.”

Hermione was showing teeth now as she lightly tapped his arm affectionately. “The feeling’s mutual, love. Don’t forget to make financial arrangements with Dr. Milligan. I’ll see you next Tuesday.”

With that Hermione walked off, daring to give him the same back wave he had just a little over a week ago. Even from this distance, she was sure she could feel the heat of his rage. It was in that moment she realized the  _ one _ thing she missed from their marriage:

Annoying the hell out of him.

……………………………………….

“Oh, well now Cressida that certainly can’t do,” Hermione frowned as she stared at the holographic form of the Head of the Wizarding Law Department. “If Lawson is too sick to work the case then it  _ has _ to get pushed back.”

“I agree with you, Hermione. I really do, but Pricely,” Cressida said with a foul contortion of her face as she said the name, “refuses to push back the date. He said it’s Thursday or your client’s case gets thrown out completely.”

Hermione groaned and yanked on her hair. “Were it for any other case he would’ve pushed it back ten years while all I’m asking for is one week.”

“I know. I really am sorry, Hermione. I’m still looking for a replacement representative to fill in for Lawson. It has to be someone competent enough to go through his notes and present the case like it was their own.” Cressida began to smile coyly, “Too bad you don’t work for us. I would’ve chosen you in a heartbeat.”

Hermione grinned. “Don’t make me consider switching positions, Cressida.”

Cressida laughed. “And leave your life’s work behind? You never would. I’ll keep up things here on my end and message you with whatever I find.”

“Great. Oh! I won’t be able to respond until the morning. Can you send a speed owl to my apartment instead?”

“Sure, but I’m confused,” Cressida crossed her arms and chuckled. “Is the infamous workaholic actually leaving the office  _ early? _ ”

Hermione rolled her eyes and kept her flushing cheeks at bay. “Yes, and I’ll be doing just that every Tuesday for a while. In case someone’s forgotten I  _ am _ getting married next year, and I need to plan.”

“How could I forget? It’s all anyone talks about in this place,” Cressida rolled her own eyes. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow then. Have fun with the wedding plans!”

Hermione thanked her and watched as the holographic form of her friend and often work accomplice disappear. Once she was, Hermione could do nothing but frown at the massive lie she’d just told. She and Draco had settled on Tuesdays to be their counseling days and would head to Dr. Milligan’s office for their three o’clock one-hour appointment. Seeing as she worked from eight in the morning until five in the evening, that still left one hour she was supposed to be at work. Luckily Ron’s work schedule was two hours later than her own, and so she could avoid the awkward, “Where are you going?” if he ever had the time to leave the office with her.

The clock that hung near her office door read two-forty-five. Hermione gathered her things, made sure her office was in a neat condition, and then headed towards the Floo. Another reason she had chosen Dr. Milligan’s office was because there was a minor Floo station about five or so blocks away from his office. It was honestly the most convenient muggle location she’d been to aside from London.

The walk to Dr. Milligan’s office was a calm and relaxing one to say the least. It was just what she needed because the moment she had stepped into the room, spying Draco already there and idly polishing his nails by rubbing them on his shirt, she remembered that this meeting wasn’t a delightful chat. This was a counseling session. A counseling session that she’d been blackmailed into. All because of a jealous should-be ex-husband who had the answer to her salvation right in his bloody lounge desk at home.

“Are you alright, Hermione?”

Hermione snapped her eyes to Dr. Milligan who was staring at her with concern. She cleared her throat and politely smiled. “Oh yes, I’m fine. Thank you.”

She closed the door behind her and sat down at the opposite end of the sofa much like at the previous session. She and Draco greeted with curt nods before their one hour began.

“Well, I’m glad that you both decided to resume the sessions.”

“Oh, I’m sure,” Draco said rudely. “I just gave you a check for the next month.”

“Draco, stop that,” Hermione chided. She then turned back to Dr. Milligan and said as sweetly as possible, “Sorry about that. In case you didn’t realize it from our last session, my husband can be an arse.”

Draco side-glanced at her and smirked. “And yet you still married me. Your taste in men is terrible.”

“While your taste in women is exquisite,” Hermione grinned. Draco rolled his eyes but his smirk morphed into a full smile despite trying to hide it. Dr. Milligan watched the exchange intently but didn’t dare write any notes on it.

“Well, while we’re on that topic,” he began. “We talked quite a bit about your time in school together last week. Quite frankly, I’m surprised at how the both you managed to start dating considering your history.”

“So am I,” Draco chuckled. “To be honest, I have no idea how it happened.”

“Neither do I,” Hermione admitted. “It just…did.”

“While it may seem that way, there must have been a moment, some…sort of catalyst that got the two of you talking at least.”

Hermione and Draco looked at each other.

“The Leaky – _ that pub? _ ” Hermione suggested after fixing her near mistake. Draco rubbed the back of his head and shrugged.

“I suppose. Granted you did smack me at the end.”

“But we didn’t stop talking afterwards. So, I’d say that’s it.” Hermione turned to Dr. Milligan. “I’d had a fight with one of my friends that night-”

“Her current  _ ex _ ,” Draco clarified. Hermione narrowed her eyes at him before continuing.

“I went to a pub and Draco just so happened to be there. He was already well on his way to being drunk, so I imagine that’s the reason he started talking to me in the first place. The talk hadn’t ended well.”

“She’s always had a thing about hitting me in the face. Mind you, Dr. Milligan, I didn’t and still don’t regret a single thing I’d said about the bastard-”

“Draco-!”

“But I ambushed her as she was heading into a pastry restaurant in Iverson Square the next day to apologize.”

Dr. Milligan furrowed his brow. “If you didn’t regret what you’d said then why did you apologize?”

Draco shrugged. “She was  _ really _ mad at me.”

“And…?”

“That’s just not what we do. We have breaking points, and that day…she’d hit it, and I couldn’t leave it like that.”

Hermione could feel Draco’s eyes on her and she couldn’t help but look at him. She’d always wondered why he had gone to apologize to her that day. He had had no reason to, but now it seemed that he did. She smiled at him with a small nod before turning back to their counselor.

“Like I said, we didn’t stop talking after that,” she told him. “Neither one of us were reading much into what we were doing. Lunch here, dinner there-”

“There was that time we went dancing.”

“Oh, please don’t remind me about that.”

“I wasn’t talking about that.”

“Oh.”

Hermione felt herself blush. She’d almost forgotten about  _ that _ , and it was clear that Dr. Milligan was waiting to hear what “that” had actually entailed. She sighed, “Draco had bribed me.”

Dr. Milligan frowned. “He what?”

“Bribed,” Draco repeated for him. “She was an absolute bookworm. She still is, I’m sure, and I had a volume that she’d been dying to get her hands on for ages. I told her she could get it, but she had to come my Manor to do just that.”

Yes, she did. That night had been a long forgotten memory until now, and it was the first time that she had truly fallen for his charm. The book in question had been in his library, but the snake that he was had done a bit of magic so that she couldn’t get it. That magic in particular kept the book lodged in its place on its shelf until three songs had been played. Easy enough, but Draco had wanted her to dance with him. The real night they had gone dancing, there had been very little of it because, as Hermione had told him repeatedly, she didn’t dance. But right then there had been no excuses. The music wasn’t fast, and there were no spectators. Just him and her.

She kept her smile to herself. “We danced.”

“And you kissed me.”

“And then you wouldn’t let me leave.”

Draco turned to her, clearly not missing that smile she was trying to hold back. “I believe you stayed on your own,” he smiled smugly then, clearly relishing in what he was about to say next. “It was the next morning when I didn’t let you leave.”

Dr. Milligan sat quietly. It was times like these when he wished he recorded his sessions.


End file.
